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Brothels Ashby Hill DN37

 

There was the realization that he might have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how all of it exercised after all. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal but do with it, maybe locate a few of his old loved ones, discover his great-great-great granny when she was hot and young and score with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography fairly well, the location of 2000, the geography of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was smart to be careful and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.

A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he invested a week simply meandering around, finding a few stray livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would just purchase one from a dining establishment. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole. When the very first snows started to fall his thoughts rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A great warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather turning on him the greater he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he assumed would be among the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather condition modification or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere fast. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear.

August was not amused and became extremely wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see things he himself could not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to find and listen for himself what had spooked Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slinked off into the rough, lurking, stopping briefly and listening . In one hand he bared a Colt revolver, the other hand a Bowie knife. He had a Springfield rifle with the horse.

August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a guy. Flies were currently swarming and so August assumed that the male had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for really much longer, August had no way of reaching any doctor. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their best to stall and carry on-- forcing Dakota to again grab a holt of Adam's young head and wrench him upwards ... then in a flash the lad's wool trousers were down and he was bent over Dakota's knee, the trap door of the long underwear the kid wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Nothing needed saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and proceeded in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young boy's anus, sodomizing him well. STANDING on Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene.

Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark needed to come and place himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The experience was amazing. Dakota was August's sort of male if he weren't so ruthless. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely nothing however still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping balls versus Arlene's ass made the only sound. When done, Dakota wrenched Mark up from the floor and pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the revolting job of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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